Gifts I Have Received

Today is my mother’s birthday. October 16th, …. I dare not say the year. But she’s been around the block. She’s old enough to have two thirty-seven year-old daughters. Of course, she looks much, much younger than that.

In honor of the occasion, I have made a list. These are some of the gifts I have received from my mother:

• The sanguine gene: We’re optimists! And pretty outgoing. She has never met a stranger and I can pretty much talk to anyone too. It comes in handy.


• A hearty cackle: My laugh is loud and bold. It is not polite or subtle. My laugh has mom written all over it. I once heard my mother laughing in an airport before I saw her. I knew I’d find her in no time. When something makes mom laugh, she opens her mouth ridiculously wide, throws her head back, and bellows freely. It’s contagious.


• An excellent, albeit morbid sense of humor: She has a sick beautiful sense of humor. I love it. We laugh at the same things until we cry. I do have a dark side in the comic sense, and I think that is inherited from her. When I was about eight, she modified the lyrics to My Favorite Things. Instead of “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…” we sang “Dead cats on highways and dead little kittens…” And it went on and on from there, because my mom hats cats. She HATES cats. We laughed for three hours in the car between Austin and Houston. That STILL makes me laugh…


• A decent look: I’ve got my flaws, and I’m no classic beauty, but as I get closer to hitting the big 4-0, I think I’m willing to say that I’m no slouch in the looks department. I clean up good. I'm no model but you can't call me ugly. I'm interesting, at least. I’ve got pretty good skin, a mane of thick hair, and pretty eyes that get complimented on occasion. I’ve got a funky nose but that’s not mom’s. That’s dad’s. The good stuff comes from mom. Just look at her. She’s a beauty.


• A love for all things Latino. It all started with Mom and Julio Iglesias in the 70s. Or maybe before that for all I know. Spain, Mexico, South America. The language, the men, the food, the art, the culture, the whole idea of it. My obsession is all mom’s fault.
  
  
  Thanks, Mom, and happy birthday!